Wind and Fire
by Naheka and Joe the Nazgul
Summary: Chapter... 8... up....Narcissus would rather be called NoName as she works as a waitress at the Red Ivy Inn. Then, a very strange person walks into the bar one evening. He is so strange that he gets a job at the inn for cooking chicken broth. Weird story.
1. Stupid Door

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Middle-Earth. It belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien. However, I own pretty much every character in this story...  
  


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**Author's Note:**  
Let's see... all right. If there are **no Canon characters in this story**, therefore meaning a lot less Canon rules to defy (but still a lot, anyway) and if nearly all the remaining characters act like _idiots_ ::twitches in the urge to go run into a wall:: is it still possible for this to be a Mary-Sue? Good gracious, of course it is! But of course I'm going ot do my best to keep away from that.  
  
I know there may be some parts in the plot that's going to stab readers and twist the knife, but at the moment, I'll just be there to call the ambulance, and that's all. Got it? Don't care how many flames I get, but this is just the way the plot has to go. Now, why am I telling you this at the beginning of the story? Well, after this first chapter, the plot may become obvious! ::keels over::   
  
Ready? all right! Tally-ho! MASS EXODUS TO THE CONTENT!  
  
~Naheka  
  


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**Wind and Fire**  
  
**Chapter 1: Stupid Door...**  
  
Of all the things that could make this hellish journey even worse than it already was, it was the fierce blizzard that had apparently decided to hit the weary traveler in the peak of the freezing twilight, just to annoy him. Unfortunately, the blizzard had practically formed its own natural lock on the door handle, barring the entrance to the inn. "_Stupid door,_" thought the traveler, gripping the handle with both hands despite the jaws of ice that gnawed at his fingers. "_Is it really too much to walk into a room and pay a few pieces to keep away from the night? Stupid door..._"   
  
A blast of wind came and his feet gave away. He tripped and slid on the porch and collided with a mound of snow piled in the corner. "Well," grunted the traveler inwardly, "_I could just smash the window open... but that will be too suspicious._" He lay there for several moments, letting the sky shower his worn limbs with frozen tears and sighs. Indeed, the sky was dark and cold, but a bright red sign, caked in frost, caught his eye. He couldn't read the large letters engraved into its battered wooden surface, but he could see a few numbers written at the very bottom:  
  
_5:00 a.m. to 12:00 p.m._  
  
It had to be at least 3:00 in the morning by now. Wonderful. He had two, long hours to come up with a brilliant plan to get himself out of the storm. Right under the sign, in the middle of the blizzard.  
  
"But then again, this isn't really the best place to plot."  
  
** ~*~**  
  
"Checkmate."  
  
The young woman groaned and let her head droop depressingly to her slender shoulders. "For the eighth time this night!" she cried, knocking the black, cedar wood king to face the cold marble of the chess board. The king tilted and knocked a pawn over. Exasperated, she looked up at her co-waiter of the _Red Ivy_ with a glare of remorse. "Will I ever be able to beat anyone at this game?"  
  
"After what was actually _nine_ severe losses," the waiter replied nonchalantly, "nine losses to a boy that's six years younger than you... _no_, you will _never_ be able to beat someone at the highly intelligent game of chess*." She watched the boy scoop up the chess pieces and sweep them back into a leather sack.   
  
"For such a young lad, mister Gladseed," chuckled the bar tender, wiping an empty glass clean, "you're rather arrogant."  
  
"I'll be running this bar, someday," said the boy airily, "and I'll make a better place of it, at that!" He took a left through the private dining chamber and across the hall. "Good night, all."  
  
The woman just stuck her tongue out after him. "Now, now, Narcissus," scolded the bartender, "we don't mean to be nasty to anyone--"  
  
"Stop calling me that," snapped Narcissus, putting her head down on the table. "That's not my name."  
  
The bartender raised his eyebrows. "Then what be your name?"  
  
She shook her head. "I don't know. But I don't really _feel_ like a 'Narcissus'. I'm not even sure if that name is from this world!"  
  
Chortling, the bar tender tossed his rag into the tub, and took his apron off, placing it beside his cloak on the coat rack near the fire side. He found it amusing that he had lost count of how many times she had whined in the evening. Lost track after thrity-four... "Well I'm sorry, my dear NoName, but that's just the name that you were given." Narcissus frowned and slumped further into her chair. "Oh, now don't pout again." He slipped his cloak on and headed out of the bar and toward the exiting archway. "You don't get anywhere good being sour. So, you have a good night, miss. I'll see you in a few days."  
  
As the wooden doors shut, Narcissus groaned and got up to tend to the fireplace. "Blasted kids and bar tenders," she thought darkly to herself. "Why does _he_ get a holiday and leave _me_ with the brat? And people call this a job? Good job my arse."  
  
"Narcissus! Get over here! Quick!"  
  
Narcissus looked up. The bar tender had re-entered the building, but staggering slowly. Scampering over to meet him, she asked, "What's wrong? Are you hurt?" She skidded to a halt as she spotted him carrying a dark, limp figure into the building. "Who..." She shook her head and helped the hooded stranger into a chair. "Where did you find him?" she said to the bar tender.  
  
"Outside in the snow," he replied quickly, rushing behind the bar to retrieve, "Some warm whiskey might get him up again. Here." He handed the dark, rectangular glass bottle to Narcissus, who hurriedly unscrewed the cap and began to tip it down the stranger's throat. "Not too much, now. We don't want to risk him--" Suddenly, the figure started choking, coughing out half of the liquid he drank. "...spitting it all out..."   
  
As the bar tender wiped his face with a handkerchief from his vest pocket, the stranger roused into a rude awakening. Seeing the portly, balding man in front of him, and the little woman standing beside him, he tilted his head, his eyes slowly easing open, but barely. He muttered something under his breath, but neither employees of the _Red Ivy_ could quite make out what he had said.  
  
"Pardon, sir," said the bar tender gravely, "but.. er.."  
  
"_What in all the bloody Hells** did you give me?_" sputtered the man, wiping the whiskey from his mouth. "Hot liquor? You could've killed me!" And with that, he fainted in his seat, eventually toppling off the chair and onto the wooden floor.  
  
Sighing, the bar tender helped the man up, and began to drag him along. "We'll let him rest in the parlor for now," he grunted, pausing to let Narcissus open the parlor door. "You get a lot of strange people at night. They get stranger every week."  
  
The unconscious-one was left on a clean rug beside the burning fireplace. Shaking the man's shoulder, the bar tender shook his head and got up to exit the parlor. "I'll be back. Watch him, now." Narcissus frowned. "I'll come running if he decides to attack. He looks cold. Probably from the snow outside." Narcissus crouched low by his side, peering into that darkened hood of his, wondering if he was some sort of monster that was subject to alcohol. Maybe he was a monster; or a hybrid of some sort. Either that, or he was a man with a discombobulated diet.  
  
"He'll need to breathe, eh?" said the bar tender as he entered the parlor, carrying a copper pot, full of warm water, and a mug. "Take that hood off o' him. He'll warm up sooner or later."  
  
With a cautious prod, she flipped his hood off his face. Her eyes widened with a sudden interest in him. Presently, his skin was unpleasantly dun from the cold. Raven black hair spread over his half-dead expression, long and surpassing his shoulders, most of the length tucked beneath his cloak. "Don't stare at him," reprimanded the bar tender. Narcissus' eyes immediately averted away from the stranger. "A bit rude, there. Now..."  
  
He ducked down beside the man on the ground and poured a small amour of water into the mug. "Stand back, missy." Narcissus restrained a laugh at the mental image of this guest spewing out the water again, perhaps drenching the bar tender and putting out the fire. She crawled up on a stool by the fireside as the water was slowly tipped down the man's throat, again.  
  
The bar tender seemed relieved to be liberated from being subject to sudden... spittings. Narcissus watched intently as his eyes slowly eased open, revealing two, dark orbs, full of a sort of shadowed, _dead_ substance. Whatever it was, she assumed that it represented his life.   
  
"Good evenin', sire, and welcome to _The Red Ivy Inn_," said the bar tender cheerily, pushing the man up into a sitting position. "Pardon my sudden inquisitions, but what were you doing out on the front porch so late at night during the winter and in the snow, below the window?"  
  
The man shuddered and spoke nothing, staring at the bar tender as if he thought he were a madman.  
  
"Do you have a name we can call you by?"  
  
He only shuddered again and muttered something under his breath.  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
Narcissus sat up. "He said something like 'Roni'."  
  
The bar tender smiled. "Roni? That'd be your name?" The man only turned his cheek sharply at him, a glare forming on his face.  
  
The bar tender chortled and rose to his feet. "Naw. That's all right. We'll hook you up with a room for the night, weary traveler, and we'll talk in the morning. How's that for taste?"  
  
Shuddering again, 'Roni' just grunted and reached into his thick, black coat, pulling out a small leather pouch. From within it, he withdrew five silver coins. He handed it up to the bar tender. "Oh!" He waddled back and took four of the coins. "Nearly forgot that part." He snapped his fingers. "Narcissus," Narcissus looked up with her widened eyes, "show this man to one of our best rooms."  
  
She scrambled off her chair. "Aye." Standing up straight she smiled at 'Roni' and slowly began to walk out of the parlor. "Just follow me, sir." Taking a left out the doorway, she headed up a flight of stairs and down a corridor, occasionally checking to see if the queer guest was still following. He was, but she could tell that he was sure to keep an even distance.   
  
At the near end of the corridor, she stopped at a door, unhooked a ring of keys from her belt, and unlocked it, revealing a pitch-black room, save the very faint light of moonlight through curtains at a window in the corner. Quickly lighting a candle, she stepped out of the room to let him in. "I'm sorry, this isn't really one of our best rooms, but it's of our most decent. Our bar tender says its all part of the advertising." She grinned at him, but 'Roni' only glared back at her. "Erm... goodnight."  
  
Wham!  
  
That was the only cue 'Roni' needed to slam the door shut in her face. She shook her head and strode quickly away from the scene, but soon after, she heard a slight thud against the door. Shaking her head again, she continued down the hall.  
  
The bar tender was right. The guests_ do_ get stranger every week.  
  


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*Chess - Do they have chess in Middle-Earth? I don't know. Does anyone know?   
** Hells - Yes, I am familiar with Arda's theology. I don't recall reading about multiple Hells for Men. However, I can't explain this little bugger right now. Just wait.  
  
Like? Hate? Flame? I like Flame! Call this a parody if you want; I'd probably agree with you. Creative Critique valued above all. But if you decide to send a review, please do me a favor: _don't lie to me._ Thanks.  
  



	2. The Lord of the Smiles

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Middle-earth. It belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien.  
  


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**Author's Note:**  
...I hate most fangirls. Unfortunately, there's one in this story. At the moment, no, it's not Narcissus.   
  
...BLECH!  
  
_~Naheka  
  
  
_

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**Wind and Fire  
  
Chapter 2: The Lord of the Smiles**  
  
  
He collapsed against the door, sliding down slowly as he slapped his hands against his forehead.  
  
"_Good Gods! My name is Oni!_" he thought angrily to himself. "_Not 'Roni'! It makes me sound like some sort of foreign food! The stupidity of these people is so great that I can still smell it!_" After sitting in frustrated silence for a long while, he pushed himself up from the floor and made his way over to the window, quickly drawing the curtains open. "_I've got to get out of this place immediately! What a waste of--_" He flung open the shutters, only to be hit in the face by a ferocious blast of wind and snow. He seethed at the cold bite it clamped on his skin. He slammed the window shut. "_...Never mind._"  
  
Departing the window sill, he began to pace around the back of the room, beside the candle light on the table. His black cloak billowed in a sort of non-existent wind as he walked back and forth. "Stop it!" He stamped on the end of his cloak again in an attempt to get it to stop wavering. "Stupid thing. I hate it when it does that. There isn't even a bloody breeze in this forsaken place!"  
  
He spun on his heel and flopped down on the springy bed covered in moderate blue sheets, staring up at the roof. "What do I do now?" The roof was made up of several long, trim, wooden planks. "I cannot even remember what I'm doing here..." As time passed by in silence, he started to count the spots on the ceiling. "I guess I'll have to lodge myself here until I get more information." There were exactly thirty-six spots on the two by two yard square above him. He knew. He had counted at least fourteen times. "I'm sleepy..."   
  
By the time he had pondered this last thought, Telperion, the Moon carrier, had begun to depart the East, as Arien, the Sun, approached the shores of the Grey Havens. The sky was cerulean again, a sign of dawn approaching. A new day had begun.  
  
** ~*~**  
  
"He's neurotic or something. It's kinda' funny, actually."  
  
"Neurotic doesn't quite sound too funny to me. But I suppose I could agree with you."  
  
Aoreth* and Narcissus stopped together at the last door at the end of the hall. Aoreth, blonde and pale, sighed heavily and knocked on the door, her light brown eyes lit with concern as she and her friend of identical figure stepped back, awaiting for the guest to open the door. There was no sign of movement, let alone life, behind the door.  
  
"You wanna' go in?" whispered Aoreth, shoving Narcissus forward. She shook her head vigorously.  
  
"No! I don't want to disturb him!"  
  
"We have to." Aoreth forced Narcissus' hand to turn the handle. "Master Gladseed wants him up to talk for business. You don't want to risk losing your job, do you?" At this notion, Narcissus groaned and slowly opened the door, allowing herself to take a peek in, first. Aoreth poked her head in soon afterward. She gasped. Narcissus choked in attempt to restrain another laugh.   
  
"He's lying in his own drool," she muttered with a grin.  
  
Aoreth, gaping at 'Roni' with an open mouth, put a hand over her heart. "Narcissus! Look at him! He's sleeping like an angel!"  
  
"_He wasn't exactly an angel last night_," thought Narcissus. Yes, 'Roni' had fallen into a very deep sleep, deep enough to prevent himself from drowning in his own spit. Yet Aoreth was gazing at the long, silky black hair that spilled over his dun shoulders and face. It was at least as long enough to reach his waist. But suddenly, the door was pulled shut, and Narcissus was thrown back.   
  
"What did you do that for?" she sputtered at Aoreth, who had sunk to the ground against the wall, looking flustered.  
  
More like star-struck. "You never told me he was so adorable!" Narcissus groaned again and shook her head as Aoreth's eyes widened. "He seems so tall and dark and--"  
  
"Psychotic," drawled Narcissus to finish her sentence.  
  
"Hey!" Aoreth sprung from the wall and stamped in front of her co-waiter's face. "You're just jealous because... because I like him better than you do."  
  
"Goodness. We move rather fast in relationships, now don't we?"  
  
"Stop it!"  
  
"Will someone please explain to me why I find two women arguing at my door at 7:00 in the morning?"  
  
Aoreth and Narcissus whipped around. 'Roni' was standing in the doorway, looking very displeased to be awoken so rudely. He glared sinisterly at both of them. "Is there something so important that I have to be disturbed to be notified?" Neither of them spoke, for Aoreth's stunned grip on Narcissus' wrist was so tight that she had to hide her seethed teeth between her lips. "Well? No?" He began to withdraw back into his chambers. "I should complain for such terrible service."  
  
"Wait!" cried Aoreth.   
  
'Roni' poked his head out of the doorway again. "What?"  
  
Aoreth had obviously frozen in place. "We apologize, sir," said Narcissus, also trying to conceal her attempts to wriggle free from Aoreth's grip. "But we've come to--ow! Get off, Aoreth! -- to tell you that our inn-keeper would like to talk to you, concerning last night's events."  
  
'Roni' lazily raised an eyebrow. "Really?" He yawned widely, and the heavy marks under his eyes became even more noticeable. "So, why can't I just finish sleeping here _quietly_ and_ by myself_ before I speak with your alpha?"   
  
"I wouldn't know," sighed Aoreth dreamily. "We should just let you go in peace, shouldn't we, Narcissus? You can come talk to the Master, later." 'Roni' looked almost frightened at the pathetic waitress' gleaming, enormous eyes. "Have a good morning."  
  
Muttering something cross under his breath, he gave them both one last glare before slamming the door shut.   
  
"Aoreth!" cried Narcissus, arms flailing as she began pacing up and down the hallway quickly. "You idiot! How could you do such a thing?"  
  
"Oh, shut up," said Aoreth in the same, dense, lost tone. "I think he's just fine sleeping until he likes."   
  
Yet surprisingly, as the two waitresses began to walk back down the corridor, 'Roni' hadn't woken up again as Narcissus took the time to hit her head against the wall. For some reason, she thought she needed it.  
  
** ~*~**  
  
"So..."  
  
Oni's dark eyes darted quickly back and forth, several times to the window, several times to the door, and only once or twice to the cheery, portly man that sat behind a desk, piled with yellow parchment forms and ink bottles. He squinted slightly at the pale sunlight that streamed down through the curtains to his left. But the gray sky of winter gave him some comfort, whatever he believed comfort was.  
  
"Sit, will you, Mister Roni?" chortled the man, gesturing to a wooden stool beside the desk.  
  
"My name is Oni," he grunted in reply.  
  
"Ah, most sincere apologies, sire." The man kept the blissful smile on his face as he sat down behind the desk, gathered a few papers, and reached down in his coat pocket to retrieve a long, sort of ivory pipe. "Now, as I understand it, Mister Oni... you were found nearly frozen at our front archway last night. You also seem to have a... unique reaction to liquor of any sort. And of course not meaning to pry at all, sir, but I am curious..." at this point, he leaned over the desk and whispered with his pipe in mouth, "why?"  
  
Oni only stared at the curvy smoke that made its way up from the inn-master's pipe. He snorted, and the dark mist swept away from his face. "I was in the foreign part of town. The night was cold. The doorstep of your inn was as far as I could go. As for the alcohol," he snorted again, blowing the smoke away, "...it just happens to run in the family."  
  
The inn-master stared at him awkwardly for a moment before chuckling again and saying, "Well that serves as an answer! Now, if you sign right here," he pushed a thick booklet of parchment across the desk, pointing at a blank spot midway down the bottom of a page, "you can check yourself in, and stay as long as you need to."  
  
As he handed him a black pen, Oni stared down at the paper for a moment, taking the time to observe what each line was for. Lightly dipping the pen into the ink bottle once, he quickly brought it over the parchment and jotted down a few, very light characters. He seemed to be very irritated with the scratchy sounds of each stroke he made with the pen. Soon, he pushed the book, pen, and bottle back to the inn-master, and turned halfway to face the doorway.  
  
"Thanks very much, mister Oni," said the cheery-one with a grin. "If you ever need help, just call for Master Gladseed. Have a good day."  
  
Oni paid no tribute of farewell at all as he turned on his heel and exited the room, away from the sunlight, and away from Master Gladseed, who was apparently the Lord of the Smiles.  
  


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*Aoreth - I kinda' made that name up; I took the name of the Gondorian healer, Ioreth, and stuck a Mary-Sue-ish 'A' there. Doesn't it disgust you?  
  



	3. Naudae

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Middle-earth. It belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien.   
  


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**Author's Note:**  
Sorry it's been such a long time since I've updated. I've been really busy with other stuff; other pieces, Photoshop, etc.   
  
Um... yeah, that's pretty much the only thing I have to say. Enjoy reading!  
  
_ !naheka!_  
  


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WIND AND FIRE  
  
**Chapter 3: Naudae**  
  
Kicking the cabinet door shut while rummaging through another drawer for a butter knife, Narcissus glanced over her shoulder before turning back again to the plate of toast in front of her. A small pile of torn and scribbled notes sat beside the washing tub, on the verge of falling into the white suds. Her hand made a diving catch to retrieve a leaf before turning to the nearest group of waiters passing by. "Table six has been at the menu for half an hour already."  
  
"I will help him!" volunteered Aoreth, heading toward the swinging kitchen doors before anyone could answer.   
  
Narcissus flung a soapy hand onto her shoulder, yanking her back. "Not you, you absent minded block-head! You'll make him even more tconfusedhan he already looks!"  
  
"I promise not to read out the entire menu again," snapped Aoreth. "And besides, you have dishwashing duty, so you should stay out of my business."  
  
"We are in the same business, Aoreth! Working at this inn long enough, I know you are going to apprehend the situation."  
  
"He's not a madman or anything of the like."   
  
Narcissus stared at her, unconvinced. She shook her head, and bitterly pushed the attractive, yet foolish waitress through the double swingingdoors. She could try to keep an eye on her through the opening panel near the front of the kitchen. It was only right behind her, and table six was directly next to it, too. Picking up another soiled dish and the wash cloth, she took to wiping platters again, half in remorse, half in hope. Maybe Aoreth could resist her excitement just this once.  
  
  
**~*~**  
  
Oni turned his head away from the blabbing maiden that had emerged from the kitchen cells. _They speak mortal tongue_, he thought. His fists clenched under the table. _Damn. I knew I shouldn't've cut human language classes. Blast it all._ The waitress wouldn't stop talking. _Will she ever stop talking?_ He looked down at the menu again. It was a thick sheet of parchment with the name "The Red Ivy: Inn and Restaurant" scrawled across the head in smooth, scarlet ink. That summed up almost everything he could read and understand. He could identify the arabic characters, but couldn't identify the meaning of what each grouping of characters meant. For example, an entry near the top of the list read:  
  
"SPECIAL RASPBERRY TEA"  
  
What was a "RASPBERRY"? He knew what "TEA" was, but what could "RASPBERRY" be? Was it a berry that made your throat rasp? That couldn't be it... could it? And why was it _special_?  
  
"Well? Do you?"  
  
The waitresses squeaky voice brought him back to his senses. He looked up at her. She shuddered nervously for a moment, then repeated her question. "Do you speak the Common Tongue?"  
  
_ They call it 'Common Tongue'. How quaint. _Oni shook his head.   
  
"Okay, then I suppose you can only understand a small part of it." He nodded. The waitress grinned. "Well! That's great! So what language do you speak then?" After that, she went into a self-to-self conversation about how could he understand her if he couldn't speak too much Common Tongue so what if he was lying to her and just a madman like the jealous girl in the kitchen said.  
  
"Sachain," said Oni darkly.   
  
The waitress paused for a moment, her thin eyebrows in danger of disappearing into her mane of silky black hair. "Excuse me... Sakayan?"  
  
His patience was tried easily. "Sa-chai-n! You have that gutturalhiss sound with the 'chai' when you pronounce it."  
  
"Oh... er... yes, I knew that." She grinned sheepishly, showing a row of perfectly lined, white teeth. "Um... where do you come from?"  
  
From their very right, a wooden panel of the wall slid open, and another waitress leaned out of it. "Aoreth you blockhead," she snapped. "You've been chatting at his face for too long already. Get back in the kitchen - it's your turn to wash dishes." As his waitress, Aoreth, gasped at the new waitress, clearly offended by her remark, she turned to him and said, "I'm so sorry, sir. Here." From out of the window she pulled a white plate with two slices of bread, "Buttered toast," then a small glass container and a thin knife, "and strawberry jam."   
  
Aoreth took each item carefully through the window, and set them on the table. "Free of charge, due to the long wait you've had. If you need anything else," she nodded at him, "call for a waiter or just give a tap on the window." She knocked on the sliding door twice as a demonstration. "Have a good brunch." Then the panel slid shut. Aoreth, still looking unappreciatively harassed, gave a small curtsey and headed back into the kitchen.  
  
Oni watched her leave for a moment, glanced back at the wooden panel, then down at his food.  
  
_Naudae!_  
  
Of all the dishes he expected to find in this strange place, it was his favorite, _naudae_; otherwise known to man as buttered toast. It was practically a sacred food at home. The heavy grudge against the inn for bad service was immediately replaced with a respect for its choice in food. Maybe this place wasn't so bad after all.  
  
** ~*~**  
  
Narcissus tucked the slightly soiled wiping rag (she had a habit of carrying one around constantly from experience) back into her apron pocket as she scanned the eating area for tables that were ready to be cleared for other customers. There was a scrape of a chair, wood against wood. The man from table number six, the unfortunate one to endure Aoreth's waiting service, stood up and slung a paper-brown sack over his shoulder, and casually walked out of the inn with a cool demeanor. He hadn't stopped at the inn registration counter, and so she assumed that he would be returning later in the day.  
  
As she bent down to pick up his dishes, which had been completed salvaged of food to practically every last crumb, something shiny caught her eye. Picking up the plate, she found a single, round, gleaming gold piece. Rubbing it against her fingers, she discovered that its sleek softness had to make it pure gold. Pure gold! As a tip? Narcissus examined the coin closer. The face was completely blank on both sides. But the ridge, perhaps a millimeter wide, was engraved with strange markings - a collection of lines and dots. A sort of code, perhaps?  
  
Narcissus shrugged. The tip was hers for now. She'd have to ask him about it later. What was his name again? Roni? No. She recalled her boss' perpetually smiling face telling her that the special guest's name was Oni. Of course, that wasn't such a common name in Bree at all; maybe even in all of Middle-earth. How many people in the world have inherited a name such as "Oni"?   
  
As confusing as it was, her apron pocket seemed both heavier and lighter as she marched off to the next table to clear the dishes off.  
  
** ~*~**  
  
"You knew I'd be here, didn't you?"  
  
"You always are. How can I not suspect?"  
  
The waitress bowed only a few degrees. "I'm sorry for interrupting you again. I imagine it must be rather annoying..." she waited for a cross reply from those thin, pale lips, but none came. "But I have a concern--"  
  
Oni raised an eyebrow. "_You_ have a concern?"  
  
"Yes, _I_ have a concern..." she reached into her pocket and pulled out the gold coin from earlier, "... about this unique piece you left on the table. Master Gladseed reckons that it is pure gold. And this is merely a tip you left on the counter? I had thought not; our service towards you hasn't been very... good...."  
  
There was a silence as Oni ran the coin along his long fingers, his still eyes left expressionless as each marking on the rim of the coin passed his gaze. It would've been appropriate if those eyes were ice blue - it would match his current disposition. Finally, he handed the coin back to her. "This is the payment that I left on the table. It is yours." He held the coin gently over her hands, clenched together in front of her in her apprehension.  
  
"But sir," objected Narcissus, "this is an awfully high--"  
  
"Awfully?"  
  
"...well... _rather_ high payment. Your service this morning has been marked as free of charge. You really needn't--"  
  
Oni kept the coin over her hands. "This is the payment that I left on the table. It is yours."  
  
There was a loud _ping_ as he flipped the coin into the air. Narcissus watched it spiral into the air, a single star against the darkness of the ceiling, taking flight into the night, then descending down, plummeting to the earth, where it landed with a flap in her palms. The smooth surface, smooth like glass, flashed in the dim light of the fireside. Its blank face stared up at her. Dead. Living. Like money. It was money.  
  
A grumble broke the silence of of observing thoughts. At first, she thought it was the guest feeling grumpy again, yet it sounded rather bubbly for his vocal chords. Narcissus looked up. Oni was looking down at himself; at his stomach.  
  
"Did you have anything to eat?" she asked. Oni shook his head.  
  
"The food everywhere confuses me," he said darkly.  
  
"Well..." she pocketed the coin and stepped out of the doorway, "I'll have to return the favor for such a large tip. Come downstairs. I will explain the menu to you so you won't have to starve yourself tomorrow." To her surprise, he nodded and followed her out the door, through the corridor, and down the flight of stairs.  
  
As they entered the eating deck, he asked, "By the way, what's your name?"  
  
"Mm? Oh. It's Narcissus."  
  
Oni chuckled. "Ha. Narcissus. What a weird name."  
  


* * *

  
If you're familiar with my series, yes, buttered toast is a very holy and sacred dish to Oni's family. Very special. I don't know why. It just really is.  
  
Okee... I'm going to end up changing the title of this fic soon. Why? Because I don't like it - it doesn't identify the story amongst the others. I'll state the fic's new name in the next chapter. Why? Because I need time to think of one. **._."  
  
Oh! And before you run yourselves out of here**... how... do the people in Middle-earth go to the bathroom? I mean, in an inn, is there a series of pipes, or do you have to run outside and ... release? Yeah, disturbing question, but I've asked worse. **:D**   
  
_ !naheka!  
_  



	4. Of Chicken Broth and Iruji?

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Middle-earth. It belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien.  
  


* * *

  
**Author's Note:**  
...WOW it's been a REALLY long time since I've been to this website. I've been caught up in school work, my art work, and everything in between... but here it is, finally! Erm... I suppose that's the only thing that I have to say right now. Oh yeah. I'm still pondering about a new title for this story. My poor brain went "fizzle-pop!"  
  
Narcissus: Fizzle-pop! ^_^  
Oni: ..............  
  
Okee! Story time!  
  


* * *

** WIND AND FIRE**  
** Chapter 4: Of Chicken Broth and _Iruji_?**  
  
  
The swinging kitchen doors of the Red Ivy Inn creaked at its hinges every time it swung. Narcissus ignored it as she usually did and stopped a yard from the door frame to take a right into a small alcove where several wooden racks sat under a single unlit candle. She was surprised to sense Oni still behind her; the first floor of the inn was pitch black, save for the lighted wax-and-wick in her hand, but she was able to navigate the decks by memory. It seemed amazing how he had failed to crash into any tables or trip over his feet in the dark, as she had done a million times in the past.   
  
Not bothering to light the candle in the alcove, Narcissus reached down and grabbed a sheet of the thick parchment paper with the red and black ink scrawled across its rough surface. "Believe it or not," she said in a low voice, "I had to help write all hundred copies of this menu." She gestured to the scratchy quill marks that made out a long, elaborate list of items for eating. "It took the entire crew several days to write all of them completely and nicely."  
  
"You could have established a single, large wooden menu instead," replied Oni with the usual scowl on his face. "It evidently would have been a lot easier."  
  
"Master Gladseed said it wasn't fancy enough," sighed Narcissus. "He wanted a more sophisticated type of inn and bar - a unique, individual one."  
  
"_Feh_. I've seen fancier."  
  
As she still had her head facing the inside of the alcove, Narcissus felt her brow twitch - but she wheeled around and grinned widely instead, and handed him the menu. "So why don't you just take a look at this while I fix up some left-overs, eh?" She observed his studying glare at the menu for a moment before turning around and pacing towards the cellar, where, within its chambers, she picked up a few slices of leftover bread, cheese, and a quart of vinegar. "I hope you don't mind soup," she announced as she turned to close the door. "Tredure isn't exactly my specialty but it's the only thing I can think... what are you doing?"  
  
To her surprise, Oni had already lit a fire in the grate under a small cauldron filled with what appeared to be leftover broth from a previous night. He had also lit several candles. "Where did you get the broth?"  
  
"I found it lying on the mantelpiece," Oni replied simply. "Where do you keep your spices?"  
  
Narcissus stood still at the cellar door, unsure of how to reply. If he was asking for spices, he could probably cook. He probably knew a lot about cooking. So why couldn't he help himself to some food? What if he used strange, _evil_ spices? Like powdered human livers or halfling hairs? She pointed to the cabinet to the left above the washing tub. "Right there."  
  
Oni was busy tending to the fire. "Good. Could you get _tae-naga_ and..." he licked his lips in thought, "_iruji_?"  
  
Tae-naga? Iruji? "What?"  
  
Oni turned his head. "The Gods forbid -- do you know what iruji is?"  
  
The waitress squinted in confusion. "I have never heard of it. Or that... tai-nagar thing you speak of."  
  
"Sweetening," snapped Oni. "Do you know of the sweetening crystals?"  
  
"Sugar?"  
  
"If that's what you call it. Get some for me."  
  
Huffing at his act of ordering her around like a mere servant girl, she lay her cellar items on the counter beside the mantelpiece and went to fetch the item, normally called sugar, from the cabinet. The small sugar bowl was a dark green, porcelain object, used only for the kitchen staff, while the customer sugar was kept in a large, tin barrel. When he took the sugar bowl from her grasp, she feared that he'd dump the entire thing into the pot, but instead, he took a spoon from the counter beside the fire, and using the tip, he scooped out only but a pinch and dumped it into the broth.   
  
She could have sworn that she heard a slight "puff" from within the fire, as if the sugar had summoned the broth to explode. Yet, she smothered the thoughts and continued to concentrate on her guest's work. But he did nothing more than stir the concoction for a few minutes before lifting the cauldron off the fire and onto the counter. Narcissus blinked. Sugar and broth. That was it? He seemed rather pleased as he took a small sip with another spoon. Then, before he took a second scoop, he pushed the pot towards her. "Want some?"  
  
Narcissus blinked again. She leaned over the pot, smelling the steam that rose above the surface of the broth. Although she was rather uneasy about the existence of the soup in its entirety, she mumbled an, "Okay," and drew another spoon from the drawer beneath her. Reaching up, she opened the cabinet and got two bowls. Silently, Oni picked up the pot and dumped a few of its contents into the clean bowl. Narcissus stared at a while before nervously dipping her spoon into the liquid and raising it to her lips.  
  
Bitter? No! Sweet. Strong. Flavorful. Tangy! Sweet.  
  
"How could he have done it?" thought the waitress in shock. "Impressive," she said, taking another spoonful. "Very good!" Oni continued to eat his dinner in silence. "But I find something hard to understand.... How did you get sugar and broth to taste like... a much more complex dish?"  
  
He sighed and proceeded to eat, but before he could answer, there was the creak of the swinging door hinges. In walked a long, scrawny boy whose freckles were lightened in the aura of the fireplace. His mop-like hair appeared to be jet black and ruffled from maybe two hours of sleep. "Evening, Junior," said Narcissus thickly after taking a tenth slurp.   
  
"My name is Thomas," grunted the boy.  
  
"Yes, after your father, Thomas Gladseed," added Narcissus. She glanced over at the pot and said to him, "Would you like some broth?"  
  
"Is that what the commotion is all about?" yawned Thomas. "I woke up from the cluttering from the kitchen, so I came in to investigate." He trudged past the fireplace until he came to stand at Oni's side. Nudging his shoulder, he said, "So I see you've finally cooked something that hasn't killed the cat, Aoreth?"  
  
Their eyes met sharply as Oni swiftly turned his head to look down at the lad. Thomas shuddered. The stranger's glare was so deep, he thought it could've stung. "Who are you?" he inquired abruptly.  
  
"This is Mister Oni," stated the waitress, "who hasn't eaten anything all day long yet was gracious enough to cook his own meal."  
  
Thomas stood still and shook his head rigidly as Oni turned away to face the edge of the counter. "I've never met a man with hair as long as his... I guessed that only elves grew it that long.... And a strange name, too!" He looked at Narcissus. "Just like you! Oh, maybe you're distantly related? Yes! If he's an elf then you can be part elf, too! Your names must be a sort of the Elvish tongue--"  
  
The lid of the pot came down gently on his head after Narcissus picked it up. "Don't get any silly ideas, Junior."  
  
"Only my mother calls me that!" retorted the boy.  
  
"Then maybe you need another mother to keep you under control!" she mocked in reply. She began to laugh as Thomas hunched in contempt.   
  
The swinging doors creaked again as a fourth figure entered the kitchen. It was the paling yet ever smiling Master Gladseed. His white face looked red in the firelight, the grinning curves of his face illuminating a rather frightening bunch of shadows upon his face. "Now, now, what's all the commotion?"  
  
"Father," whined Thomas, "she's picking on me!" He pointed at Narcissus, almost poking her in the eye with a jab of his finger.  
  
Master Gladseed only smiled wider as he paced toward them with the same, chronic congeniality in his air. He didn't say anything to Thomas, but he took care to peer into the cauldron to catch the scent of its contents. "It smells like a fine brew in there," he said jovially. "Would you mind if I tasted a small portion? A sip?"  
  
Narcissus glanced at Oni. He was draining the last of the broth in his bowl. As he dropped his head after he swallowed, Narcissus took it as a "yes" and reached for another, smaller bowl from the higher cabinet. In moments, she emptied the last of the broth into the bowl and handed it to her master. With another grin, Gladseed accepted her offer and gulped half of it down with one swallow. Although it seemed impossible, his smile widened again.   
  
"What excellent soup!" he exclaimed in delight. "Here, Junior, try some."  
  
"Father, I can't eat when I try to sleep - I'll just wake up again--"  
  
"You're already awake - you can afford what you've already purchased, can't you?"  
  
Although he was hesitant, Thomas took the bowl from his father and tasted less than a teaspoon of the broth. "Not bad," he said, but he immediately shoved it back into his father's hands. "Well, jolly meeting everyone here but I'd best be off to bed by now! Have a good evening!" And with that he swept out of the kitchen through the swinging doors, quick like lightning.  
  
"I think he's scared of you," whispered Narcissus to Oni, who had been silent throughout Thomas' entire visit.   
  
"You can leave the pots and bowls and spoons in the tub," said Gladseed, "we will wash them in the morning when we can use the water." He took a step backward and began to turn towards the kitchen doors. "But in the meantime," he added, "I may have a proposition for you, Mister Oni."   
  
"For giving you heated chicken broth and sugar in a bowl?" suggested Oni dully. Narcissus covered a smirk as she gathered the dishes to take across the room to the washing tub.  
  
"If that's all your cooking was," replied Gladseed, rising on his toes, "then yes, I do have a proposition for you. You won't have to pay for spending the night here."  
  
"For giving you heated chicken broth and sugar in a bowl."  
  
"Yes, in exchange for--"  
  
"Heated chicken broth and sugar in a bowl."  
  
"And any other dish you can come up with," chortled Gladseed. "Is it settled then?"  
  
"For heated chicken broth and sugar in a bowl. I consent."  
  
Then, they shook hands, and Master Gladseed bid his employees a good night before finally exiting the kitchen.  
  
"Can you find your way up to your dormitory?" asked Narcissus a few moments later, "which is now free of charge.... I'm going to stay down here to watch the fire go down."  
  
"I'm capable of it," answered Oni, "...but I had the same plans for myself."  
  
She smiled. "Then we can stay up together."  
  
Finally she sat down on the wooden floor in front of the fire. He remained standing in the far shadows of the room. And that's how it was for the rest of the night.  
  


* * *

...Stupid Thomas....  



	5. The Red Ivy Inn

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Lord of the Rings, it belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien.  
  


* * *

  
**Author's Note:**  
Neh. This chapter's kinda' weird. The next one will be better. Oh well. Better than nothing.  
~Naheka  
  


* * *

  
**Wind and Fire**  
Chapter 5  
The Red Ivy Inn   
  
"Brant, you should have been there. Twas a mighty extreme deal he made with a man he's only known for three days," said the waitress, collecting plates from the round wooden tables -- the ones with the battered, wine-stained surfaces secretly engraved with initials of its previous guests on the underside. All twenty-five of these identically crafted tables had similar scars front and back, but they were still yet reliable for the needs of their purpose. Narcissus handed a stack of plates to the bar-tender, whose name we now know as Brant.  
  
"Ah, but a mighty bargain can bring mighty rewards," replied Brant, chuckling deeply. He lead the waitress through the aisles of chattering men, half drunk with morning ale, to the swinging kitchen doors. "And as long as the lad doesn't poison the food or drop dead in the middle of his work..." at this point, he flung the doors open, revealing a busy crew of a casual Saturday morning. Like dancers performing a routine, different maids and men rushed back and forth, up and down the long kitchen floors, visiting different cabinets, stopping occasionally to clarify and order, and doing the business of waiters and of the like. However, there was one dancer who performed with the most queer movements, yet also with much dexterity. "...I think Roni should do fine."  
  
"He is called Oni," corrected the waitress.  
  
"Ah! Two curious names for two curious individuals!" With a smile, he dropped the dirty plates onto the counter and headed out the door. "You two make a pair."  
  
"Oh, do shut up."  
  
---  
  
"_Rise at five, dine at nine, sup at five, retire at nine, for a long life. Rise at five, dine at nine..._"   
  
It was the same tedious, irking line in his head, over and over again since six thirty in the morning. Was a free room for an unknown amount of time really worth cutting down four hours of his sleep? He deeply thought not, but knowing that said circumstances were only temporary, he kept to the same tedious, irking line in his head, over and over again until it was time for him to retire.   
  
Oni looked down where a soggy piece of parchment lay on the counter. It was a list of common foods made for breakfast. It read:  
  
_Liquor  
Fish  
Beef   
Bread   
Cheese   
Toast in wine_  
  
"Toast in wine?" he thought. "That's just disgusting." He stared down at the list again. Why was the rum at the top of the list? He stood still for a few moments. Then he looked to the left, and then to the right. Without anyone noticing, he seized the parchment, neatly and quickly ripped off the top, and tossed it into the fire. It burned quite nicely to his delight. He figured that no one would really need the alcohol at seven in the morning.   
  
"The griddle pan should be heated by now."  
  
Oni whipped around, startled and hoping that he wouldn't be arrested for tossing liquor out of the menu. It was one of the kitchen boys, carrying a barrel of wheat to the storage room, who was also responsible for lighting the fire to heat the pans. The boy stared at Oni, caught off guard with the older one's aloof, bewildered stare. They both blinked, and with a latent shiver, the boy walked off to the cellar. In a moment, the cook went back to his work. He reached to his right and uncorked a large, square glass bottle, full of white wine. Picking it up, he heaved a lot of it into a pot that sat beside the griddle pan. Then he put his fists on his waist and waited.   
  
  
"You know that if you let the wine sit there for too long, all the alcohol goes away?" asked a distant voice from his meandering imagination. In the last hour or so, Oni had made three pots of tea, a loaf's worth of toast, sliced through five blocks of cheese, and cooked half a pound of meat. The fish was sitting in the oily griddle pan, a slimy bubble occasionally popping around its motionless, scaly frame. Later, he would swish it in the pan with the wine, chop off its head, and put some bread on the side before sending it out to a customer who had just sat down to make his usual morning order.   
  
"_Rise at five, dine at nine_..."  
  
"Hullo? You're going to make the drunk-ness fly out of the wine!" recalled the voice. Oni turned his attention to another kitchen boy that stood behind him. He recognized his face. It was Thomas, the prat from the night before, polishing a glass with a rag in his left hand. His freckles bunched up on his cheeks as he squinted with concern for the pint of wine sitting in the pot. Oni raised his eyebrows, the darkness in his eyes tranquil and somber.   
  
"I know," said the cook dully.   
  
"Father isn't going to be happy," answered Thomas, continuing to wipe the glass.  
  
"Sauce," replied Oni simply.  
  
"You're a strange bloke, you really are," the kitchen boy said softly, taking his leave out the door to the front of the bar, probably to tell his favorite waitress that there was a madman making the food in the kitchen.   
  
Oni quietly went back to work, grateful that at least this time, the harassment was mild. "Better than being a kitchen boy," he added as a final thought, picking up the pot of wine, and dumping some of its contents onto the nice, juicy fish that lay dead on the griddle pan.  
  
---  
  
On Sunday nights, the Red Ivy Inn closed early. It was eleven o'clock, and the bar was closed, leaving the inn almost completely empty of customers except for a few late ones and those who were staying in the rooms upstairs for the night. The waiters and cooks rounded up the evening leftovers and had it for themselves, spreading them out on two different tables. One table was in the main eating deck, and the other was in the kitchen. There were two because of gender-based distinctions.   
  
"Aoreth loves him!" giggled a middle-aged woman who sat at the table in the main deck. There were about half a dozen women, all clad in faded cotton dresses and stained white aprons, gathered around the same battered table in the Red Ivy Inn. The conversation was always trying to keep up with the latest town gossip, and much of it was received through the customers that walked in and out of the bar. Red Ivy legend told that no man could possibly bear to sit with the women for just one of these conversations. In fact, the men, also a half-dozen lot, were eating in the kitchen, separate from their women in order to avoid such conversations, but simply explained that it was to manly conduct their manly way of eating. The women often made quite a series of jokes concerning this matter, and took delight in dining with an all-female company.  
  
Aoreth's black hair fell over her face as she flushed a deep red in her smooth, pale cheeks, her slender limbs contracting in a squeamish manner. Some of the women burst out into laughter, while others just shook their heads. Narcissus was of the ones who shook their heads, and she shook it with the truest of movements. "Oh Aoreth, you sweet child," said another older woman, "you needn't be so coy!" The conversation among the Red Ivy women, though mostly consisting of gossip, was always this ridiculous, and it always centered around Aoreth, the youngest, the fairest, and the prettiest maiden that ever walked through the Inn doors. Whose charm had instantly gotten her a job. Whose love was fancied by many men many a day after.   
  
For a moment, Narcissus sat still, trying to control a shudder that had just passed over her thin figure as she sat on a crate in the corner of the table. The other women had come in for a job with their dirty husbands in tow, or hooded from a rain that poured outside. Narcissus, however, had practically been raised around the Inn all her life, coming as an orphan looking for work at the age of eight.   
  
Aoreth had the perfect laugh, too, clear enough to brighten anyone's day. Narcissus had a lower, quiet laugh that often went unheard. She took a sip of tea. They met and became friends when they were both sixteen. In the ten years that had passed, nothing much had changed. Aoreth's white complexion was near flawless as it ever was, and Narcissus' still bore the scars from a rough, yet common adolescence. She had shallower cheeks and her skin was tarnished from hot water, both on her hands and on her face, from a few accidents in her younger age. In solemn conclusion, she thought as she finished her tea, Narcissus was thankful to have the long dark hair that hung long, to cover her hideous face of a commoner.   
  
At this point, Aoreth broke through the conversation and asked her friend what made her hang so gloomily. Narcissus didn't look up and said that it was no problem.  
  
---  
  
The act of eating at a table propped up on two empty barrels and sitting on crates was a sign of masculinity at the Red Ivy Inn. Oni thought the idea was rather superfluous, but coped silently with it as he sat in the very furthest and very darkest corner of the table. The men did not have too much conversation at first, until one of the boys made a comment about the old woman that had walked in at four o'clock with her arms full of pine cones. She claimed that every Unicode was worth a pint of liquor, since they were actually golden pine cones that looked like regular pine cones. The old woman was sent out of the bar ten minutes later.   
  
After this comment, the table came to life with assorted conversation and a symphony of belches. Most of the talk was about the women that came in and out of the bar. The rest was about the daily profits. Oni did not take much part in the conversation, except to nod a thank-you when one of the cooks complimented on his culinary skills. He finished his dinner early and was the first to dump his dishes in the sink. Then he picked up his heavy feet and dragged himself out the kitchen door and into the main eating area.  
  
---  
  
There was an unnatural silence as Oni entered the women's dining area. He pretended to take no notice of it and continued on his path from the kitchen door, across the bar, and outside to the front entrance. The door lock, glazed lightly with snow, clicked gently beneath his fingers, and the hinges creaked so delicately, that one could barely hear it. As if trying to sneak out unnoticed, Oni slipped through the doorway, and closed it without a sound.  
  
"Go after him," suggested another of the middle-aged women with excitement.  
  
"I couldn't possibly!" chuckled Aoreth, hiding her face in her hair again.  
  
There was the predicted flow of encouragement for the pretty girl to warm up to the mysterious individual.   
  
_ Enough._  
  
"I could," muttered Narcissus. She shoved her plate onto the wine-stained, battered table surface, and got up to walk to the door. She ignored the sound of quiet murmur that began to rise amongst the half dozen women sitting around the table. She shrugged. Maybe Aoreth would _not_ be the only one getting the attention the next time everyone gathered for supper.   
  


* * *

**[footnote]**  
The first chapter of the sequel to "The File Cabinet" is somewhat near completion. This is quite an impossible question, but if you have any title suggestions, please do not hesitate in sharing them.   
Thanks muchly,  
Naheka  



	6. String, Coin, and Fire

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Lord of the Rings. It belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien  
  


* * *

**Author's Note:**  
Since this chapter came out too quickly, it's actually rather short. But again, it is better than nothing. Working on File Cabinet sequel and title. Have a nice day!  
~naheka  
  


* * *

** Wind and Fire**  
Chapter 6  
String, Coin, and Fire  
  
  
When Narcissus stood out on the porch next to Oni, neither of them said anything. He was sitting on the steps, his long fingers folded together as his figure hunched over into a tired crouch. Narcissus leaned her body against the wooden walls that made up the arch of the Inn entrance. The night was dark, but the moon, strangely almost as large as the harvest moon, shed light on the snow, illuminating every falling flake with a pale, gentle light. The town was blue and cold, with empty shops and lightless windows, glazed with frost from the week's snow. She wanted to go back inside to get a coat, but that would mean going back to face the throng of women who were probably turning the subject back to the recent rumors. Narcissus enfolded her arms tighter around herself. Oni sat motionless below her, staring out into the night with no reaction to the cold whatsoever. Although, unlike the waitress, he was wearing a cloak around his shoulders.  
  
Then, Oni reached into his pocket. His movement quickly caught Narcissus' attention. He pulled out a white string with a large knot at each end. In the middle there was a very thin silver coin with a small hole cut through the middle. The waitress was heavily intrigued, awfully curious as to know what exactly he was going to do with this strange contraption. The coin wasn't very big, its face capable of being covered with his thumb, but he took both knots in opposite hands, raising the string just above his knees. Then he shook the string and pulled it gently. The centered coin spun in its place and Oni pulled again. The string vibrated and the coin twirled with the same consistency as he pulled the string repeatedly.  
  
It seemed that poor Oni was so bored that he was trying to entertain himself with a childlike toy that he made himself. Narcissus wanted to laugh. How simple, yet entertaining it seemed. The very idea of the spinning coin was fascinating to her, and she began to wonder how he had ever learned that little trick.   
  
After what felt like ten minutes of watching the man pull the string, her curiosity could not be contained. "May I see that?" she asked quietly, smiling at her own nerve to speak to him after such a long stall. She moved from her leaning position to stand behind him when he scooted over to the left to make room for her to sit. She sat down and he handed her the coin on the string. Narcissus gave the string a small shake and pulled it, but the coin stopped spinning once she was too late to pull the string again. She tried again but pulled too hard. On the third time, she finally caught the rhythm and was able to keep the coin twirling for a few minutes. "That's interesting," she said, handing the toy back to its owner. "How did you learn about it?"  
  
Oni did not answer immediately. At first he stared at the object clutched gently in her hand, then glanced up at her face. He took the string and started pulling at it himself. "My mother taught it to me when I was small," he answered with such softness, that the falling snow seemed loud in comparison. He did not add anything else to his reply.  
  
"It is very nice," said Narcissus. She held herself tighter and shivered for a moment. She glanced at Oni, who had stopped playing with the string. His eyes carried a mellow expression, just as they usually did, but there was an absence of the chronic scowling. Narcissus recognized the glint lingering around his dark iris. It was a somber, pensive look that was hard to achieve as an adult. It was a hint of sadness that only a child could express. It was depression, suppressed with a great amount of latency. Yet to one who knew unhappiness as well as Narcissus, he couldn't hide it. "My parents are dead, too," she said.  
  
"Mother is dead," replied Oni. "Father is evil."  
  
Suddenly he stood up from his seat and took a step back to the entrance door. But before he turned the handle, he said, "You're smart, Narcissus. You can think like an understanding human." The waitress' back straightened at this comment. She turned her head to look up at him and grinned, but could not say anything. "I'll assume that you'll be out here for a longer while." As she nodded, she turned her head back to look down at the moonlit snow. Shortly afterward, there was a warm sensation coming over her figure. Oni had draped his heavy cloak around her shoulders after realizing that she was indeed shivering. By the time she had rendered this, he had swiftly slipped back into the Inn.   
  
Narcissus sighed. So perhaps there was kindness behind that dark frame of his. She examined the cloak for a few moments, and in one of the pockets she found the string toy dangling out. Narcissus drew the cloak closer around herself, then took out the string again. The cloak collar was high and was still warm from him. Thus, that was the night that she learned his scent.   
  
---  
  
The fire was warm, Oni concluded inwardly. It was three o' clock in the morning, and all of the employees had gone home to their beds. All except this particular worker. The grate was alive with crackling flames, but their existence was not meant to warm their kindlier, nor to provide a light. Oni squatted in front of the mantelpiece, staring intently into the fire. Reaching forth, he took an iron poker, and with it he began to draw in the sand below the firewood. He wrote the ancient designs of a strange craft, foreign to Middle-earth itself.   
  
There was a symbol for earth, and a symbol for water, another for sound, and another for thought. Oni remained in his position, staring into the firelight. Then he picked up the poker again and drew two last symbols, the one for wind and the one for fire.   
  
In a near instant, the fire went ablaze and shot up to reach past the grate and into the chimney shoot. The symbol-drawer stood back and crossed his arms, glaring even more intently into the flames. "Tenna sacha ke Tata," he said quietly, "kunshu donda zhulna!"  
  
For a while, the fire continued to go at its unnatural power. Then a voice came booming out, speaking a different language. Yet if this language were the Common Tongue, which it was not, the conversation that followed would sound like this:  
  
"My idiot son has finally called," roared the fire.   
  
"You said you were to call for me," replied Oni impatiently. "I have been waiting for nearly six months for you to say something to me!"  
  
"Waiting? Is that all you have been doing? You're talking to an old man. You expect him to do all the work for you?"  
  
"You were supposed to give me information! Instructions!"  
  
"So... you've been sitting on your arse doing nothing for six months?"  
  
"I've been scouting territories. I have to have covered at least a hundred miles--"  
  
"Useless!" interrupted the voice. "Your brothers and sisters could have covered a thousand--"  
  
"By foot, father!"  
  
"You are useless. I should just leave you in that universe for being so stupid."  
  
Oni just stood in front of the fireplace, his jaw hanging in outrage and bewilderment. He had nearly killed himself at least a dozen times, and been disrespected over a million. Yet here he was, being harassed by his own kin, his own father. The fire lowered. "I have instructions for you, you ungrateful... thing," it murmured. "Prove your skill to me. Cut the hair of a maiden in broad daylight. But keep your operation eluded." Oni groaned. What a stupid and pointless mission. No, what a stupid and pointless "mission". "If the hair is good then we can spin it into gold." _Ah. More money,_ he thought. _That's the ticket._  
  
"Those are your instructions. Good bye."  
  
Then there was a cloud of black smoke, and the fire went out entirely. Silence.  
  
"What's all the noise about now?" came a panicked voice from the kitchen doors. Thomas came in again, white as a sheet except for the few dark spots that made up his freckles. "I heard some really strange noises coming from right here!" He walked across the wooden floor, long enough to stand next to Oni. "What have you been doing?"  
  
Oni blinked. In reply to the young one's question, he took a bowl of leftover soup that just happened to be lying on the counter.  
  
"Would you like some chicken broth?"  


* * *

This string toy was found on sugar cane plantations of the early and mid 1900's. It's very simple to make with a section of string and a bottle cap. I don't quite remember how to make it, but once it works, two people can battle against each other and compete to cut each other's strings with the edge of the bottle cap. It's fun. ^_^  



	7. This Sorrow Becomes Me

**Disclaimer: **I do not own The Lord of the Rings. It belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien  
  


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**Author's Note:**  
Let's see... according to the labels, it's been over two months since I've updated this story. Hmm... now what does that tell you about me? (Oni: That you're a lazy bum.) Hai. That's one. (Narc: That you've got too much stuff to do?) Ja, that's another one. (Oni: That you're too unsure and unconfident and STOOPID to write anything else.) And that is also a major factor.  
Anoo....! Well, I finally updated! Thank you so much for actually coming back to read it after such a long time! (if anyone is actually reading this...) And I have a start for the next chapter. Please read through and enjoy! I have additional footnotes at the bottom.  
  
Chapter title actually came from Megatokyo - the greatest webcomic that ever existed _ever._  
  
-naheka  
  


* * *

** WIND AND FIRE  
  
Chapter 7 - This Sorrow Becomes Me**  
  
Monday provided a large amount of work throughout the entire day, especially for the new cook, whose presence had been acknowledged throughout a wide portion of Bree. Customers came flooding in, eager to taste the food of the curious employee. The uneducated ones were anticipating the coming of an elf from lands across the Misty Mountains, or from across the sea in the west. When they came into the Red Ivy Inn, their eyes were wide and open, searching for a fair being who walked so lightly on their toes and had a song in their graceful voices. Aoreth was often mistaken for said being, and she took it with a stumbling giggle.  
  
At one point, Oni did leave the kitchen and crossed the main eating deck filled with customers. The loo was on the other side of the building, and if he did not answer it's call, he would surely... be in much agony. So he quickly walked out of the swinging kitchen doors, only to immediately be met by a large crowd of young elf-hunters. They saw his pale skin and the dark rings around his eyes, and the shiny, long black hair that was tied back and nearly hung to his knees. What they couldn't see, or refused to see, was the glare he gave them for staring so rudely. Yes, lengthy hair got in the way, but it distinguished pride in his family, which, for Oni, was very hard to come by.   
  
"He hasn't got pointy ears," sighed a young boy who was in the crowd of onlookers.   
  
"He's using his elf magic to trick us," snapped a girl with muddy streaks on the side of her face.  
  
Then, one of the older waitresses stepped into the scene. She whipped out her wiping rag and screeched at them, "Clear off! You children are being very rude! Go on now!" She waved her rag fiercely at them, like a tamer would towards a lion. The young commoners slowly trudged out of the bar, looking harassed and disappointed. "Clear off! There be nothing to see here!"   
  
Later, customers were disturbed by a light banging on the walls. Oni needed a method of releasing his stress, so he privately hit his head repeatedly on the outhouse walls. When he came out, he looked relieved, but still rather gruff.   
  
However, the real action did not occur until four o' clock after midday. Business was still running high, but since it was after the main lunch hours, the other cooks allowed Oni to take a break from his long shift. This meant that it was time for an early dinner. He had another shift at around ten o' clock, and in the meantime would rest and tend to cleaning up major spills. Lunch was toast for Oni. No butter or jam or anything fancy to go on the side. Simply plain toast. It was the only thing that ever really satisfied him at the moment. What he really needed to concentrate on... was the frivolous task that he had received the previous night: cut the hair of a maiden, and hand the lock over to spin into gold. A child's tale it might've seemed in the eyes of an average person, but it was simple and crucial business in Oni's culture. That was one of the reasons why long hair meant pride, because long hair could also mean wealth.  
  
Oni looked up over a cup of plain tea as he sat in the furthest corner of the eating deck. The layout of the deck was a simple, organized one: four rows of round tables, five tables in each row. This took up the center portion of the deck. If one looked at it from the kitchen doors, the stairs that led up to the inn rooms would be in the far left corner, directly across from the entry way. The bar took up a short, rectangular section of the bottom right corner, and partially served as the information desk. Waiters and waitresses criss-crossed through the tables and came up and down from the guest rooms. Then there were customers walking back and forth from their table to the bar and from their table to the entrance or the guest rooms. It was perfectly busy. Perfectly.   
  
This was the true art of Oni's making. Though he specialized in cooking, he was also a skilled pocket-picker, meaning that he was talented with wreaking havoc in an extremely subtle manner. Oni stood up. In his deep apron pocket, there was a sheet of leather, and in that leather was a medium-sized sharpened knife, and a long, duller knife. The medium blade itself was crisp and fresh, but everything apart from it was dull and smudged. The long knife was glimmering until the very tip. Then aside from these objects, there was a wiping rag, one that he was required to carry around for his job as a janitor.   
  
The deck layout provided a very busy intersection, occupied by several busy maidens. He could choose any one of them, as long as he worked carefully. Oni inhaled, then casually walked forward, pulling the rag out as he went.  
  
In the chatter of customers to servants, he fingered the handle of the medium sized knife, but pulled the rag out of his pocket, grasping it loosely in his right hand. He passed through the intersection. Out came the medium knife, covered by the rag. He let his hand slip gently, swiftly dragging the blade across someone's section of long, shiny black hair. The smudged knife caught no light from above, so as the glimmer would not attract any attention. Within seconds, the medium knife and the hair were safely inside the leather in his apron, and the long knife was unsheathed, and secretly inserted into another waitress' apron pocket. Exhaling, Oni exited the intersection and started to head up the stairs.  
  
---  
  
When Oni opened his door again at ten o' clock that night, he found a wistful looking Narcissus sitting beside the door hinge. The dark spots under her eyes were more noticeable than ever, and in her left hand was a half empty brandy bottle. She had evidently been drinking, Oni concluded as he propped the obedient girl up against the wall. It took a little effort to yank the liquor bottle out of her hands, but eventually got a free hold of it and dropped it out of the hall window. He wrung his hands at the feel of a bottle touched by a person that was actually drunk. How sad that it came from such a young figure.  
  
Oni sat down on the ground in front of her and crossed his legs. "What's wrong with you?" he drawled.  
  
Narcissus stared drunkenly at him for a moment, blinking slowly and gently. Then she sobbed, "Everything. I'm a good fer nuthin' kid who can make 'nimies quicker than friends." No tears came out of her pale eyes. "And it's all useless. I wanna go away ferever."  
  
Oni stared blankly at her, but shortly evaluated another method of asserting the conflict. After pushing the door open once more, he hoisted her up by the shoulders and dragged her inside. Taking an immediate right, he left her on a wooden chair next to the window. Oni sat on the floor again before her and said, "I heard Harad was a sunnier place than this.... Why do you want to go away?"  
  
Her left hand clenched for a moment as if wondering where her brandy suddenly disappeared to, then croaked, "It's Aoreth. Somehow her hair got cut all funny and she found me with a kitchen knife five minutes later. It's been 'bout six hours since then but all the ladies have been looking at me like I'm the most indecent thing that ever existed in this bar."  
  
"At least in the bar and not in the world."  
  
"Fine. In the whole world then." She slumped deeper into the chair, her head lolling forward drowsily onto her chest.  
  
Oni stared at her quietly. "You don't know how big the world is." She didn't reply, but he could imagine her saying, "No, I don't." "So you can't say that you're the worst in the world." "And how'd you know?" "I have had my fair share of traveling."  
  
Then he blinked. What _was _this? Why was he suddenly questioning and pouring out... sentimentality for this strange little girl? On second thought, he couldn't blame her. After all, it was he who apparently accidentally framed her for the "crime" of "tarnishing" Aoreth's "perfect" hair. Oni didn't want to do it. His father made him do it. His father was probably also drunk when he told him to do it. Oni stared at Narcissus' cringing left hand, longing for more alcohol.  
  
"How much did you drink?"  
  
"That was.... my second--third drinkee...."  
  
She almost fell out of the chair. Oni had to grab her arms again to keep her from falling. When he pulled her chin up, he realized that she was in a drunken sleep. She would have a hangover in the morning. He sighed and yawned. Narcissus snored.  
  
There was a strange tugging pressure at the corners of his thin face as he took an extra sheet from the bed and threw it over her shoulders. She continued to sleep on. Meanwhile, Oni took the other sheet and wrapped it around himself. He sat down against the wall by her chair, and bowed his head. What was once meditation quickly fell into slumber.  
  
---  
  
It was seven o' clock Tuesday morning when there was a knock at the door. Taking advantage of the unlocked door, the visitor quietly stepped in to look for the missing waiter and cook, hoping not for the worst.  
  
Oni's eyes flashed open at the click of the lock, but relaxed once he saw Aoreth poke her head through the door. "Narcissus?" she said softly, her eyes traveling to the prone girl in the chair and the clump of sheets beside her. "Oni. How has she been--"  
  
"Will you go away?" he scowled quietly.   
  
There was a point of direct eye contact between them. The short moment seemed like a long instance before Aoreth nodded and gently stepped back into the hallway. She closed the door and that was the last of Aoreth that Oni ever wanted to see.  
  


* * *

Again, chapter title actually came from Megatokyo - the greatest webcomic that ever existed ever. Yes, I meant to repeat "ever" twice. I'm not getting that dull.  
  
For those anticipating an update on "The Line", I gladly inform you that about 1/4 of the chapter has been completed! Please, if there is anyone willing to join the cast, especially those who have participated in the past, please **send me an e-mail **about it. Do not send a review - avoid discussion of this topic in the Review System as in accordance to regulations - miscellaneous notices should not be made on the review board.   
  
Thank you very much and Happy Lent/Easter!  



	8. Emotion Drift

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings. It belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien. The fictional language spoken in this chapter is strictly mine - I made it up out of my own randomness. All characters are mine as well.

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Author's Notes:  
Well, here is another excruciatingly late chapter. There isn't a lot of action in this chapter either. Hah. That just shows how very important it is to thoroughly develop a plot before launching into a story! I've got some footing on the next chapter, but knowing my recent reputation for posting, let alone writing, I am not sure as to when it'll be up.  
Hope you enjoy this little bitty right here as much as I enjoyed writing it.   
  
-Naheka

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WIND AND FIRE  
Chapter 8 - Feeling Drift  
  
Humans may have the potential to fall out of chairs once they wake up in a place that they feel they should not be in.   
  
Narcissus had a brash morning rejuvenation as her cheek collided with the cold wooden floor. After much cursing and moaning to herself, she managed to push herself up onto her forearms to look around. Tangled strands of dark hair clouded her vision, assisting the demeanor of her drunken aftermath. The room was rather dark, but light enough to see the outline of a neatly made bed and a table. And a gray lump that was a pack sitting on the floor. That was it. There was no other evidence of residency.   
  
She supposed that travelers had to travel light - that's how they got in and out of places like the wind. That would be a good way to describe Oni. Like the wind. Her mind jumped as she realized that she was wrapped in sheets, but relaxed as she also realized that she was still wearing everything she had on last night. Narcissus stared blankly and tiredly at the floor for maybe ten minutes. Then she dropped out again on the floor.  
  
It was another hour before she remembered that she had previous obligations.  
  
"Oh no! I'm three hours late for my shift!"  
  
"You'll miss four hours the next time you drink so much," said Oni as Narcissus sprinted through the doorway, pulling her apron on and putting up her hair simultaneously. Oni stared down at the eggs sizzling on the griddle. Were they making faces at him? "Aoreth wants to talk to you," he called again, hoping that his words wouldn't be lost in the whirl of her rushed steps.  
  
Yes, they were lost. Narcissus hopped out the swinging doors and into the public, twirling a pen and pad in her hands. He snorted to himself.   
  
And yes, the eggs were making faces at him.  
  
---  
  
"Narcissus..."  
  
Narcissus looked up from her dinner plate on her lap, then looked down again. Aoreth stood quietly in front of her, her hands calmly folded together. "Narcissus, please look up."  
  
"I didn't do it," she muttered quickly.  
  
"I know you did not."  
  
"That's nice."  
  
"Oh, Narcissus." Aoreth sat down on the steps beside her and put an arm around her shoulder. "You're out here in the cold, sitting by yourself. That is not all right, especially if you're my best girl." Narcissus remained melancholy and continued to fork mouthfulls of carrots into her mouth. "I'm fine, Narcissus. I told everyone to stop glaring knives at you. Actually, I believe this shorter cut may look good on me..."  
  
"Everything looks good on you," grumbled Narcissus.  
  
Aoreth fell silent for a while. Falling snowflakes became little lights as they reflected off the moon. "Not everything." Narcissus didn't answer. She was not in the mood to answer. "I'm actually... a little envious of you, though."  
  
"Liar."  
  
"No, really, Narcissus. I mean... people give me pity all the time, but I never really have anything to be pitied for - not as much as you, at least. Whatever pity you get, you deserve--"  
  
"Oh a gracious thanks upon thee. I feel so much better..."  
  
"Aye! I mean... that people share their feelings honestly with you. You live like an actual person. I'm more of a pitiful runt that gets the sugar coated side of everything. In that way, you're much... stronger than I am."  
  
"Feelings...."  
  
"Yes, feelings."  
  
"What feelings?" Narcissus turned her head sharply to face the rooftops. "I don't get any of that. I don't get any sympathy, or respect, or holidays, or a congratulations. Deserve it, do I? Then deserve nothing do I!"  
  
"People share their feelings with you..."  
  
"Yes, like, oh look at that casualty over there. She is a perfect example of what Aoreth is not. She isn't fair or admired or..."  
  
"Oni shares his feelings with you."  
  
Narcissus' mouth hung open as she paused over her next vowel. Then she closed it. "No he doesn't."  
  
"Why yes he does. He shared a bit about himself, and his... what did he call it... that thing on a string. He even lent you his cloak, Narcissus!" She added this last bit with a louder tone. "He was my latest infatuation, Narcissus! And you have his cloak!"  
  
Narcissus put a fork of potatoes in her mouth. "And that is relevant to whatever we are talking about because...."  
  
"Oh Narss, I am sorry already!" Aoreth moaned, throwing herself on her friend's shoulders. "Can you not forgive me and be happy again?"  
  
She paused in her breath. The sound of the falling snow gradually became the loudest noise, like how you can hear the roar of the wind at the top of the mountains and in the ocean coves and on the shores of the seas. "Happy," said Narcissus. The roaring snowfall fell silent. She took up her plate and fork and started to walk inside. "Was I ever really happy?"  
  
Then she crossed through the door, and casually let it shut, leaving Aoreth in the cold outside, as if leaving apologizing friends in the snow was nothing of a drama at all.  
  
---  
  
"Ka naa.... kabai da tconou. Firu da jakata ne?"  
  
"Nao senga ja tconou."  
  
"Nao? Pulling the hair off random women?"  
  
"Did you want a specific one?"  
  
"No, but you could have been more organized with your tactics, you fool. You could easily get yourself killed and reveal the entire mission to enemies if you don't plot your mission thoroughly." For a moment the vision of Oni's father disappeared for a moment as he put the hair aside. As he turned, Oni rolled his eyes. "You will bring even more disgrace to the Madtu clan."  
  
Oni yawned. 'What else is new, you old toad?' "I will have to do better next time, tata," he droned.   
  
"You had better," countered the old toad. "Because I've got a new task for you."  
  
'Oh good gods....'  
  
"Might as well make you useful over there, since you're not that useful over here."  
  
'As if a person just could not tell when his insults are just getting overdone and overused....'  
  
"Grab some things that'll be worth... say... three qemba. Or maybe five. Five would do."   
  
'Five qemba? Why you lousy, ancient, little--' "I will do my best, tata," sighed Oni. He gently tapped his foot, waiting for the instant he could put the fire off and be out of the way.  
  
"Do better than your best," grunted Tata. "I remember those were the same words I used to tell your mother. She needed the fixing up before she--"  
  
In a few swift movements Oni took the small pail of dirt beside him and tossed its contents onto the fire. An instant kill. Oni breathed deeply. He stared down at the motionless clump of earth before him, hearing those last words over and over again in his ear. "Better than your best.... Fixing up...." He put a hand to his forehead, using the other hand to support himself as he leaned against the mantlepiece. The glimmering dark silver of an iron brace. The glare of a bright mint blue morning. "It's stopped raining, Oni. Do you want to go outside?"  
  
He inhaled deeply in the current of rushing memories. Then he yawned. As he pushed his way out of the kitchen door, he reached into his pocket, searching for the bit of tattered string that gave him comfort. He needed to find a new string to replace it someday.  
  
---  
  
Narcissus just trudged through the entrance door when Oni came out of the kitchen door. They didn't notice each other at first, until Narcissus looked up at the sound of the whirring coin beating against the string. She glanced at his face, pale like the dead moon, stroked with soft shadows. He seemed so expeditious in his task of making the silver spin. He looked up once to see the dark rings around her eyes. Then he looked down again.   
  
Gently but quickly, he stopped tugging the string and rolled it up into a small, neat bundle. Then he raised his arm and tossed the string towards her. Caught off guard, she missed its departure from his hand, and it landed on the floor a few feet away from her.  
  
"Keep it," he muttered. "A new person like you could probably use it." Then he bent his head even further towards the ground and walked up the stairs.  
  
Narcissus stared after him, long after the last of his shadowy self swept out of view. She crouched and picked up the coin on the string. "New? I thought he was the new one here." She sighed and paused for a moment more. "New to what?"  
  
  



End file.
